


Competition

by skullfucker



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Blood and Violence, Child Death, Child Murder, Creep William Afton | Dave Miller, Dead Charlotte "Charlie" Emily, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, Non-Consensual Touching, Obsessive Behavior, Porn With Plot, Violent Thoughts, most of this was written while i was half asleep and im not sorry for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skullfucker/pseuds/skullfucker
Summary: With the competition being out of the way, William can now do what he wants. Right?
Relationships: William Afton | Dave Miller & Henry Emily, William Afton | Dave Miller/Henry Emily
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	Competition

William hadn't felt the slightest bit of sorrow when he murdered Charlotte. He couldn't find it in him to do so, even if he had tried to force any emotion, all that spilt from his heart was anger. Hatred. Rage. Even when she stared up at him with such a hopeful gaze, eyes twinkling as she reached out to him and begged for her uncle Will to save her. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

Of course, it didn't matter to him that he knew it was wrong. What mattered is that he would finally get Henry's undivided attention instead of the snivelling little _brat_. Every second that he spent time with her, treated her as if she were an equal instead of nothing more than a burden to both society and their relationship. Friendship. It was annoying. Nervewracking. Made him just want to jump at her and snap her tiny little neck.

Innocent, small, insolent little Charlotte. She never saw it coming. Not from her uncle Will. As annoying as she was, he had to confess that her screams of agony were like music to his ears. The way her tears bubbled over and cascaded down her cheeks like waterfalls, the way she would cease her weeping to breathe heavily, then resume once more a few seconds afterwards. Almost as if she was trying to annoy him. The way her loud wails would die down eventually, tiny hands grasping at his fingers, begging, pleading to be released, to go home. Voice becoming nothing more than a whimper, a murmur, until it died down and her body became a husk. He loved watching the light fade from her dark eyes, the life leaving her, leaving only a shocked expression behind in its wake.

William took his sweet time with innocent little Charlotte.

He loved the way her rib cage would snap under his force, puncturing her already bruising lungs, filling them up with her own blood. Nevertheless, her organs were so small and malleable, much like her innocence, her purity... It angered him.

He loved breaking her fingers, one by one, just to threaten a reaction from the toddler. To hear her scream, begin to kick at him with her worthless legs. Amusing — thinking she could do anything against the grown man. She was nothing more than an annoyance to him. Her actions only forced the anger to rise in his gut, pressing against his pounding heart and causing a painful sensation of pure rage to pulsate straight into his brain. Her kicking, her screaming, her neverending cries, god, it was becoming so annoying!

Even her gurgling noises as he stranged her, the tears, snot, and saliva spilling onto the edges of his grip, coating him in pure and utter disgust, it annoyed him. How disgusting, absolutely fucking repulsive! It made him want to draw his fist back and punch her in her upturned little nose.

Hell, he had been taking out all his anger, even after her body had long gone cold. The cracking of her bones and the slick noises of the blood seeping from her wounds, sweet bruises covering her tiny body. Her battered, broken body. Ah, if Henry had seen him now. It would be terrible, for both parties. Why, if he saw him like this, performing such a heinous act on his daughter, William might as well call himself a dead man.

Best not think of casualties like that, especially so early on. He has a dead body in his arms. The dead body of a toddler who would once try to jump into his arms willingly and hide behind him as if she trusted him, calling out his name and giggling when he would pat her head innocently.

Even so, William felt no fleck of remorse bubble inside of him at the former thoughts of her once lively personality, now clouded over by the sweet essence of death. Why would he feel bad for getting rid of the competition, the disgusting child standing in the way of he and his Henry's friendship?

But...

He hadn't expected this predicament to end in Henry becoming so distraught, so empty. Sure, he had lost Charlotte, but that was something easy to get over. Perhaps William was a bit biased, but that didn't matter. Why couldn't Henry get over _one_ disappearance? Was he that sensitive, that attached?

How disgusting.

The fact that she still resided in his mind made William want to tear out his own heart just to stop the painful feeling of jealousy, of resentment, possession. He hated this, he hated her, he hated everything. Everything about this bloody predicament made him want to cease existence and crawl into his personal hell, dragging Henry along with him.

Speaking of Henry, however, he's been gone a little too long. Right, right, grieving. Depression, loss— and didn't the Mrs decide to divorce him after the entire situation? He sure hopes so, because then the other wouldn't have others to lean onto for emotional support. Or any support, for that matter.

He should check up on him, though, William concludes. Wouldn't want his _favourite_ person gone for too long, that would just be horrendous. It's already terrible enough, nearly running the place all by his damn self. Time-consuming, not to mention mentally draining. Even for him.

Regardless, Henry's home stands tall. A simple home, one which William knew all too well. It was easy to retrieve the spare key that Henry had hid, right under the welcome mat. A stupid place, really, it never made sense to him, given how smart the other was. Why use the most cliche place of all? Best not to dwell on that thought. The front door creaked open slowly once unlocked, allowing the inside to become the illuminated by the suns rays. The inside is...

Not what he expected.

Then again, what did he expect?

It was gloomy, dark. The air was thick with tension, and a little too silent for his liking. Faintly, he could even hear Henry's voice. Whispers in the dark, soft sobs. While analysing the walls littered with family photos, he William felt a tinge of disgust run through him. To be frank, he never really approved of Henry's marriage in the slightest. The whore that he had chosen, oh, don't even get him _started_! She was way below his standards, and, god, she was such a bitch to William. Shouldn't that have been a red flag? Hating your husbands best friend? Was it hatred, or just jealousy due to how close they were?

It didn't matter to William anymore. She's gone, and most likely won't ever be coming back.

Eventually, he reached the room of where the sobs had originated from. His office. Awe, that's almost sad. The door opened with a slight creak, allowing William to peer in and see the disaster of a room. Papers scattered everywhere, dirty clothes were thrown here and there. A few dents in the walls that he guessed was from the other's anger. The room had been through hell, obviously facing Henry's resentment and wrath through his grievances. A sigh escaped him,

"Henry," he almost crooned, pressing the door open. Said man jumped in response, snapping his head around to face the brit in his doorway.

"W-William," he began, quickly flailing his head back to stare down at his desk, wiping his eyes. "I-... I didn't hear you come in," swallowing thickly, his eyes scanned his room, "sorry. About the mess. I, uh, I haven't been feeling the best lately."

Williams expression fell flat, "of course you didn't hear me, you big loaf, you were crying," his words were almost seething, and, oh, let's not forget the absolutely delicious flinch that he earned from the shorter man, "lucky I came here when I did. You look like you're on your last leg." He stalked closer to him, gently sneaking a cold hand on his covered shoulder, sneakily rubbing it up to his messy collar then to the side of his neck, a comforting gesture.

Either Henry didn't notice his slight advances, or he merely didn't care. William hoped it was the latter. Sincerely.

Despite himself, William's hand moved up to Henry's jaw, nearly yanking his face to gape his way. Forcing him to look him in the eyes. "You could've at least given me a warning, you know," his thumb pressed against the others scratchy cheek, feeling the coarseness of his stubble, "cause it was a bitch to keep that place open on its own, you know? It was missing your... Presence."

"Really?"

There it was. That remorseful expression. The pain in his eyes, grief. He felt bad. Poor little Henry felt bad. "Mhm. I was nearly pulling my hair out in stress. It's rather selfish of you to lock yourself in here, don't you think? Grieve all you want, but _w_ e have a business to run."

There was no chance to let Henry speak, "after a week, I was beginning to think you had up and left Hurricane all together. My calls were left unanswered," he clenched his teeth, "do you know how that feels, Henry? I was so _worried_ and _stressed_." He feigned worry, eyebrows upturning as he sharply inhaled his next words, "while you were here, sobbing away your sorrows in this absolute _pigsty_!"

That expression plastered on the others face was absolutely priceless. He had been on the edge of a breakdown, and now, those feelings were coming back all because of William. He looks so close to unravelling, bloodshot eyes becoming glossy, nearing blurred vision.

His lips part, trembling as he spoke, "I.. I didn't- mean to," he suddenly grabbed Williams wrist with a shaky hand, "I'm sorry, Will, I swear I didn't, I-" his own choked words cut him off, causing his muscles to let loose, his body going limp in William's grip. While his saving grace hushed him softly and leaned in close, allowing him to sob while in his arms. Slender arms wrapped around the other, engulfing him into a possessive, warm embrace, ensnaring him completely.

"I forgive you, darling," He cooes to the ginger, "just don't do it again."

They both stay like that for what seemed like forever. Just William's soft breathing coupled together with Henry's whimpering, soft pleas and hopeless begs. It nearly made the brit feel giddy, the thought that the other might become such a broken man that he won't be able to depend on anyone other than his _best friend_. He had to admit, the thought had crossed his mind one too many times in the past. During important meetings where Henry was a little too competent for his own liking, or even when they were hanging out as buddies.

Suddenly, he spoke up, "You know what might make you feel better, Henry?" There was a smirk in his voice, words dripping with malicious intent, "we can do something together." A simple gesture, one in which anyone would agree to unless given a reason not to. He clicked his tongue and continued,

"You need to unwind, huh? All those tears and," His gaze wandered to the beaten walls, "anger, has tuckered you out, I bet." A hum in response was all that was given, but it was enough to spur him on, "surely you know what I'm getting at." A sigh escaped him at Henry's own type of innocence. Adorable sometimes, absolutely aggravating more often than not.

William felt himself groan in annoyance, "sexual relief, Henry."

There was a sudden jolt at his words, and the ginger then pulled away from him with an almost revolted expression on his face, nose scrunched up in what seemed to be disdain. Ouch. Guess he wasn't too fond of the idea, then. Henry looked like he was mustering up the courage to speak, or at least, he was pondering over his words very carefully.

"No," He firmly stated, almost disgruntled, "you have a wife, Will, and I- I'm-" His words slowly died out, earning a low chuckle from the other. That's just pure gold, there. There's a way to persuade him into it. And if there isn't, well, William will find a way. Somehow.

William held onto his jaw, rubbing his thumb alongside his jawline affectionately. "She doesn't have to know. Besides, you're in desperate need of relief, are you not?" There was silence. "Of course you are. I can tell, it's okay to tell me. I promise I'll make you feel good, Henry." One of his hands slithered down from the others shoulder down to his covered hip, rubbing his hip bone with a hum, "just let me take care of you. The least I can do."

He pushed Henry back into the chair he resided in, ignoring the barely audible whispers of disobedience. While leaning in, William couldn't help but notice the shorter man hitch his breath, tensing up like a dead body, muscles contracting, leaving him frozen in fear. For a second, it almost reminded the British man of little Charlotte. But the thought was immediately dismissed when his thin lips pressed against the crook of Henry's neck, the hand clenching his jaw shortly falling to his hip. His skin was so warm. A part of him wanted to slit open his throat and watch the blood pool beneath him and coat his favoured flannel in bright red blood.

A skilled hand dragged itself to Henry's crotch, hovering above it as the fingertips threatened to press against the wrinkled surface of his trousers. Seconds passed and William felt himself grow impatient, instead opting to wriggle his fingers past the waistband of the other's jeans, the palm of his hand pressing against his cock. Normally, he would shy away from this type of behaviour. Shun it, even, turn away in disgust. But here he was.

After William just as much as dug his teeth into Henry's neck, groping his crotch to evoke a reaction. Which seemed to work in his favour.

"I-!!" It was nothing more than a hiss of pain mixed with pleasure, calloused hands pressed against Williams dress shirt. "Don't- no, William, I don't-" his words were interrupted by a whimper as the brunette dug his teeth into his neck, pressing more of his weight against him. Imprisoning him.

Those skilled fingers slipped through his boxers and took ahold of his cock, rubbing from the hilt to the tip, agonisingly slow. It was cute to listen to his soft words. The involuntary moans, the quiet pleas. Henry certainly was a delicacy that William would happily indulge in, society damned.

Then again, he brutally murdered the man's daughter, why would he worry about society in the slightest? How complicated.

One hand began to unbuckle what was left of the gingers belt, tugging at the waistband. Like most things to William, they were merely an annoyance. Getting in the way of some well-deserved treats that he wanted. Pulling away from the now bruised neck, he took in the males expression. Disgust, disappointment, and, dare his eyes deceive him?

 _Desire_.

That can be used against him later on. For now, he was focused on those sweet noises that would escape the other, as well as the slick noises of his hardening cock. William had to admit, the way his body was reacting to _him_ and _he alone_ was enough for a shiver to crawl down his spine and jolt straight to his own cock. Oh, Henry, what you _do to him_...

"W..will.." A plea fell from his lips as he jerked his hand up and down, "it- fe..feels so..." The words left him as quick as they came, tongue seethed in between his chattering teeth. "I... if you don't stop, I might- aguhuuu.." He suddenly lurched forwards, hips beginning to buck up against William's fist, shaky breaths escaping him. "William, William, I'm gonna-"

With a hum, William pressed his thumb against the slit of the flushed cock. "Come? You're going to come?" A smirk rose to his face, "you're absolutely disgusting, Henry. Look at you. You're practically humping into my hand like a dog in heat." A sob came from the other at that, thighs trembling.

"I know, I know, you can't help it, can you? I'm the only one here for you," his grip on his cock tightened, "so you'll take any type of attention I give you. You want it to stay that way, don't you?" The hands that were once pressed against his chest began to clench at the fabrics, wrinkling it.

Leaning in, William ran his tongue alongside the shell of Henry's ear, "if you want to come so badly, tell me you love me." A risque move, but one that he had been dying to do. He already knows that Henry loves him, platonic or not, he just needs to hear him say it himself. And as he drew back, the look in Henry's eyes made him think that he finally was going to listen.

But, the man remains stubborn. Crying out those same words of disobedience as before, his entire face scrunched up. He's grinding his hips up against William's hand, body practically begging for any type of friction that it can take.

He truly had a mind of his own, even if he wasn't aware of it himself.

Does he not know who is in control?

"Ah," he squeezed the shaft, earning a sob from the smaller man, "you're going to listen to me, aren't you? I'm giving you such a good gift and you're acting like an ungrateful little brat. Three little words and I'll give you the release you want." That seemed to have caught his attention.

And his dry lips shakily part, trembling, "a..h..hhghh... I- love..." William began to run his thumb along the tip, teasing him. "I love you! I love you, j-just puh-pl..please just let me come, I..-" his hips shuddered against him, begging, pleading, for release.

Adorable. It was so easy to get him to unravel and beg. All it took was a few words, sensual touches, and he's practically falling apart at the seams.

Much like before, despite himself, William ignored the pleas of his mind and shoved his face against Henry's, clashing their lips together painfully, almost. The other gasped, but seemed to be too caught up in his own pleasure to even begin to try to refuse him and pull away. It was a perfect moment, Henry moaning against his lips, completely overcome in bliss as his orgasm racks his body. He must have been so depraved to allow this to happen.

When William pulled away, Henry's fingers were still grasping at his shirt, his thrusting hips beginning to halt. The British mans face scrunched up in false disgust, grimacing as he hummed softly,

"Next time, you better mean it."

**Author's Note:**

> look. you either liked this or you didnt, theres no in between. this was also never intended to be sexual, but here we are.


End file.
